When He Wants To
by friendlyneighborhoodfairy
Summary: After being assaulted, Freed can't stand sexual touches. That might end his and Laxus's slow-building romance, but one night they sleep side-by-side and begin discovering new ways of affection. The problem is convincing Freed this is all Laxus wants. {Fraxus threeshot. Abuse themes from my Overcome fic, without the sex. NO rape scenes or smut.}
1. Part I

**When He Wants To**

 **Trigger Warning:** rape-related themes and PTSD. (This fic combines leftover scene ideas from the fic Overcome with themes of sex avoidance and sex-less rape recovery.) **NO RAPE SCENES. No smut.**

 **A/N:** FFN keeps breaking on me. In case I can't get the rest of the chapters up, you can read it on my AO3 account.

* * *

 **Part I**

Laxus saw it occur. That's how he knows. He's pretty sure Freed hasn't told anyone else.

Laxus happened upon them, Freed and two men. Saw Freed fighting back futilely, saw what was happening, all in an instant. He observed the awful look on Freed's face when he saw that Laxus was witness to the most terrible night of his life—

Laxus doesn't like to think about it. To this day, he doesn't know if the men ran because Freed struggled too much or because Laxus's appearance scared them off.

The question haunts him.

It shouldn't, because he knows he's not Freed's savior, but he still wonders what would've gone down if he didn't hear strange sounds and go check it out.

These days, he counts himself lucky he gets an excuse to be around Freed all the time. Not because he thinks he has to keep Freed safe, but because he can tell Freed needs someone there sometimes—Laxus would, if someone had done That to him. And Laxus wants to be that person…but he doesn't know how. He waits for clues and opportunities.

Sometimes that waiting is so painful. When the team shares a room on missions and Freed falls asleep crying, silent but with salt in the air the Dragon Slayer can taste, Laxus wants nothing more than to hold Freed in his arms.

But he can't, because Freed doesn't do touching anymore.

Before It happened, they had a thing between them—a flirtatious thing neither was good at talking about, which culminated frequently in making out in hidden corners. Breaking apart breathless and awkward.

Doing it again a few nights later.

Laxus had planned to make a move. He could see the way Fullbuster, Rocko, and some of the others looked at Freed, and he knew they couldn't stay in this liminal space forever. And then It happened, and Freed wasn't the same. He built walls higher than Mount Hakobe, didn't respond to people, didn't flirt, and didn't talk much.

While others backed off, Laxus drew closer. Not too close. But he didn't run away.

Once in the beginning, he leaned in and kissed Freed, just like they used to, and Freed responded, melting into him…for about four seconds, before shoving Laxus off and disappearing. That's how Freed deals with any form of touch now: panic and coldness.

Evergreen figured out Laxus's feelings, though she doesn't know the story of Freed's withdrawal. She says Laxus tortures himself 'wanting what he can't have.' She says he needs to let Freed go if the man's not interested, but Laxus knows that's not the problem. He and Freed have plenty of chemistry.

Laxus awaits the day Freed wants him again.

When that day comes, Laxus will be there ready to give. Until then, he can't ask for anything, because it'll freak Freed out, and he doesn't want Freed to deal with any more trauma.

So he doesn't burden Freed with expectations. He just tries to be there.

* * *

Laxus, Freed, and Bickslow are holding boards up as they fix the western walls during the guild's latest "remodel" (thanks Redfox this time), while Ever flies around nailing things in place. She and Bickslow are chatting, Laxus focusing only when he hears Ever say, "…I'm serious about her."

"About whom?" the Dragon Slayer asks, alert to anyone invading their team.

"Mira, you dolt." She scowls. "So no more teasing. I like her. A lot."

Laxus is about to ask how long they've been dating, because it feels like a while (and when was the last time they teased her about it?), but Bickslow pipes up out of the blue, "I think her brother is the hot one."

Ever kicks Bicks's head as she flies over.

"I'm not into men."

"I'm not into women."

"Yes, tell us more about that, Bicks," Ever says, nailing the board Freed holds with more vigor than she needs to. "I'm done answering questions about my love life. Your turn."

"What's there to tell?" Bickslow gives a long-suffering sigh. "I'm never settling down."

"Sure." Ever looks at Laxus and they both roll their eyes.

"Everyone I'm attracted to is either hypersexual, aromantic, straight, or…just not into me. It's hard when you're ace _and_ gay."

"I keep telling you Elfman is ace, baka," Ever says. "Ask him out already."

Bickslow pouts. "I'm probably not his type."

"You can't complain if you're not doing anything," Laxus puts in. "You won't find someone if you're defeatist about it."

"What about you?" Bickslow accuses. "I don't see you making a move on anyone."

"I'm also not whining."

"So you don't like anyone?" Bickslow asks.

Laxus shifts one of the boards, not looking up.

"I like my life how it is."

Bickslow shrugs, while Ever keeps her expression neutral. Damn her people-reading skills.

Casting about for another topic, Laxus notices Freed sitting by the stack of boards, drinking water and watching them.

"Taking a break?" Laxus asks, the lamest topic change ever.

"Hydrating." Freed sets his cup aside and lifts another piece of wood.

"What about you, Freed?" Ever asks. Her tone is gentler. She may not know what happened, but she knows Freed is sensitive these days.

"I like my life how it is, too," Freed says, his back to them, and those are the last words they get out of him all afternoon.

They've grown used to their captain's new silence, but they usually hook him into conversation at some point, so his quietness today leads to everyone else drifting off. Laxus doesn't mind; the peace is nice. Truth be told, Freed's calm demeanor is something Laxus always liked, even before everything happened.

But the serenity only lasts until that night, surrounded by celebrating guildmates. Perched between Freed and Bickslow (the only people not making noise), Laxus sits at the bar counting the minutes until someone damages the new hall. Grumpiness is starting to pinch between his shoulders when someone sidles up to Freed's side.

"How's it going?" Loke asks, bright and cheerful.

"Mm," Freed hums, noncommittal, sipping his water. "How are you?"

"More energetic than the rest of you," Loke admits. "Lucy forgot to call me out to help. Although, wow: you look as fine and put-together as if you lazed off too."

Freed smiles. "Trust me, I'm as tired as anyone."

"I believe you," Loke laughs. "You're the opposite of lazy, Freed. Didn't you tell me once you went on jobs every day for over a year?"

"I enjoy resting, too," Freed protests, which is a complete lie: they have the hardest time getting him to agree to anything that isn't a mission. Especially now.

"Any plans this evening?" Loke asks.

"No," Freed says. "I'll probably go home and read."

"That's it?"

"I have a new book I'd like to get through tonight. It'll come in useful on the job we're leaving for."

"Another job," Loke teases. Then he startles. "You can read an entire book in one night?"

At that, Laxus has to look over, hiding his laughter. Loke looks stunned, while Freed blinks in genuine confusion.

"Yes, of course."

Shaking himself, Loke recovers and winks. "Amazing as that is, I can think of half a dozen things more interesting to do with your night. Even to a scholar like yourself."

Though Freed chuckles, it's tense, body tilting away.

"I doubt it."

"That sounds like a challenge."

Despite the flirty tone, Loke's smile is gentle. But Freed recedes into his coat, shoulders up, and the posture makes Laxus's whole body tingle in alarm.

"You're quite hard to please, aren't you, Freed?" Loke asks.

"Not really."

"Would you be willing to let me try?" the spirit asks softly.

"N-No, I'm good, thank you."

Freed's hand shakes as he wraps it around his mug. How can anyone mistake that for anything other than unease? But Loke chuckles. Laxus wants to punch him.

"I'm not asking for your life's commitment," Loke says. "Just to show you a good time."

Freed stays silent, his every breath loud in Laxus's ears. Eyes on the bar, he looks fixated, or maybe scared.

"You're a very remarkable person," Loke says.

When Freed flinches the tiniest bit, Laxus is ready to jump in and fight—but it's not his battle. He's always been hypersensitive when it comes to Freed and he needs to get a grip or else he's no better than Loke.

Loke reaches out to stroke Freed's cheek.

The rune mage jerks back, eyes pinned on Loke while his pulse runs out of control; Laxus is sure it must be visible throbbing in his throat. Freed is leaning so far he's about to fall into Laxus's lap. With a ragged breath, Freed collects his voice and whispers, "No, thank you."

Loke sighs.

"Alright. If you ever change your mind…"

As Loke walks away, Freed deflates. Turning, he startles at how close he is to Laxus, though he doesn't draw back. Instead he looks down, a resigned slope to his shoulders. Suddenly Laxus feels guilty: he's always witnessing things Freed doesn't want him to see.

"I think I'll head home," Freed says. "Tired."

Laxus's tongue is heavy. "Okay."

While Freed stands, Laxus's mind whirls through sentences and scenarios. This whole thing has only made him grumpier.

"Wait," he says as his teammate takes a step. "I'll come with you. It's too noisy in here. If that's okay?"

Sighing, Freed nods.

Following the rune mage out, Laxus stays a few steps behind him, Freed's stride hurried, fleeing. The place they rent with Bickslow and Ever is a few blocks away, through a park. Under the dark trees, Freed speeds up until he's almost jogging.

"Freed," Laxus calls, "wait."

Freed stops.

Laxus doesn't know what he wants to say. How do you maintain someone's dignity while offering them your help? Freed's eyes are empty, black in the darkness, no hint of their usual green. There isn't much light, but the Dragon Slayer can see lines of stress dragging at Freed's face.

Laxus has been quiet for too long. Freed walks back to him and asks, "What's wrong?"

Instead of speaking, Laxus takes a tentative breath and spreads his arms.

"What?" Freed asks, but he takes a step closer.

Laxus bites his lip.

Freed walks into his arms haltingly. It's barely an embrace, his hands loose at Laxus's waist, but Laxus copies him and makes it a light, relaxed hug. Freed sighs, a warmth ghosting over Laxus's shoulder.

"Sorry," Freed says. "Sometimes I don't understand why people want me."

Laxus opens his mouth, startled, not sure how to respond to this. 'Because you're amazing'? That just sounds like Loke.

But as quickly as he came, Freed pushes Laxus off again.

When Laxus is too slow letting go, Freed shoves him, gasping, smacking Laxus's arm in his haste to get away. Laxus releases him as fast as he can and steps back, shrinking, trying to be non-threatening—which is hard when you're 202 centimeters.

"Come," Freed grunts, voice low and grating.

It breaks Laxus open. He mumbles something in the affirmative.

When they get home, Freed unlocks the front door and heads to his room without saying a word. After a few seconds of crushing silence, Laxus goes to his own room, ignoring the damage in his spirit that leaks emotion through his body. He doesn't know how to deal with all the unsaid things that are bursting inside him without a home, so he goes to bed without pondering them.

As he slides under the comforter, he sees light under the door—Freed up to read. Laxus hears the creak of the sofa, the familiar swish of pages. He falls asleep wondering why Freed can't accept that people like him.

At some point in the night, there's a sound like distant thunder. Laxus is awake in an instant, listening for the storm while he gathers his wits.

But there is no storm: he hears scuffling instead. A thundering heartbeat makes his chest twinge—it's nearly loud enough to be in the room with him.

Rising, Laxus opens his door.

Freed is curled on the sofa twitching, book closed beside him. His calloused fingers catch in a strand of his hair and his expression scrunches. A nightmare.

When Laxus picks his way to his sleeping comrade, helplessness crashes over him like the sea. He wants to do something, but he can't risk touching Freed. He doesn't want Freed's panic following him into the real world.

So Laxus grabs a pillow and lies on the ground beside the sofa. It's the closest he can get: Freed's walls are made of steel a meter thick.

Laxus hates that helping Freed sometimes means not doing anything.

* * *

In the morning, Laxus awakes to Freed shifting. A green silhouette peers over the edge of the sofa.

"Laxus?"

"Mm?"

Shoveling up onto an elbow, Freed stares around the sitting room, while Laxus avoids looking at him: it seems Freed's worst moments happen when Laxus is watching him, and he doesn't want this to be another humiliation.

"What are you doing?" Freed asks.

"Sleeping," Laxus grunts. "Or I was. What are you doing?"

"Why were you on the floor?"

Freed isn't going to let him get out of this.

"You were too loud," Laxus mumbles.

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

He didn't mean to accuse Freed. Gods. At least Freed doesn't sound upset.

As Freed swings his feet to the floor, Laxus rolls out of the way and stands, stretching.

"Shit, it's after seven," Freed says. "Our train is at eight."

Laxus groans at mention of a train and thinks he'll probably skip breakfast. Rising, Freed heads toward the hallway, no doubt to wake Bickslow and Ever. Before he can disappear—before this moment between the two of them can vanish completely—Laxus says, "Freed."

Curious, Freed looks back. "Yes?"

"If you ever need anything, you can come to me."

Freed grunts.

"I don't want anything," Laxus adds. "Just…it's hard to sleep when you're…loud. If you ever want, I know some tricks for avoiding bad dreams."

"Oh. Okay," Freed says, and his gaze is clear, green eyes meeting Laxus's with a bit of surprise.

Ironically, the next time one of them needs the other, it's Freed who comes to Laxus's rescue. They're on the train, Laxus hating his stomach, when Freed touches the back of his hand.

"May I?" he asks.

Laxus nods because that's all he can do without throwing up, still feeling those warm fingers. A wave of Freed's hand and the air glows purple. Laxus's eyelids drag shut.

"I'll wake you when we get there," Freed murmurs, voluntarily touching his hand again as Laxus slips into peaceful slumber.

When Freed wakes him later, Laxus swears he can feel a lingering pressure on his fingers, like Freed held his hand through the train ride.

* * *

The mission is a good one—hard but successful. A week later, the four of them stumble home late in the evening, exhausted but high on life. Even Freed is animated, discussing spell ideas from their opponents' magic.

"The way that mage re-parsed space and time to slow everything down for herself was brilliant," he says, leading the way into the kitchen. He tosses a sack of vegetables at Laxus, nodding at the sideboard, and tells Bickslow to grab a fry pan. "I can't believe she came up with that herself—that's high-level stuff."

"Think you can do that with runes?" Ever asks, excited. "If you have more time to write, you'll be able to trap people without advance planning."

"That's the hope." Freed grins. "Plus Bicks's souls will be able to use more time-consuming formations in combat."

"Oo." Bickslow sticks his tongue out. "The babies will love that."

"No more speed for me, thanks," Laxus says. "I'll run into things if I go any faster."

They all laugh.

"If we could combine your speed and my runes," Freed says wryly, "we'd have solved the world's problems already."

"Probably true," Laxus says.

Evergreen perches on one of the counters as Freed begins cooking.

"Have two you thought about melding your magic?" she asks.

"Unison Raid?" Freed glances at Laxus. "I'm not sure that would work."

"Why not?" Laxus asks. They're pretty damn in sync.

"I don't think my magic pairs well with others'," Freed admits, biting his lip. "Written magic…"

"It's still magic," Laxus says. "And you're powerful. It might be worth a try."

"Alright."

Freed's smile is soft, almost happy. As Laxus hands him the chopped food, Ever returns to the subject of time compression and Freed lights up, looking like he might actually remember how to relax. He'll never be the same, and even now, Laxus can see the new Freed: shoulders rounded forward, hands hard and twitchy, the delicacy of his movements spasming in ways which, while still fluid, lack the grace Freed once had.

He'll never be the same, but Laxus still sees Freed. Still loves the person he is and has become.

* * *

That night, when there's a knock on Laxus's bedroom door, he doesn't need to smell that sweet, dusky scent to know it's Freed.

"Come in."

A creak, and the green-haired man stands in the doorway, framed in moonlight. Laxus flips over and props himself on an elbow.

"What's up?"

"Laxus," Freed asks softly, "can you teach me your trick for dealing with nightmares?"

"Yeah," he says, eyebrows rising in surprise.

"I just don't want to wake you again."

"You're fine, Freed." Shit, he didn't mean to make Freed anxious about sleeping.

He scoots over and motions to the empty space. After a second, brow bent, Freed sits on the edge of the bed. He's all stiff, not a relaxed muscle in his body, but he's watching Laxus, and his eyes aren't closed off.

"Don't laugh. It'll seem weird," Laxus says. "When I was little, I had nightmares for years, and this is how Jijii taught me to deal with them."

"Okay."

"First thing: don't think about bad shit while falling asleep. Jijii would have me come up with a new dreamscape. Not something perfect, because that's too unreal—something peaceful. He'd have me describe it. What it smelled like; felt like; sounded like. What kinds of plants are growing in this field? How do they taste? Are there mosquitoes?

"If anything scary appeared, like monsters stalking me, then I'd switch to a different place and start over. Always focus on imagining sensory details. As long as you think about that, you can't think about your fears as much."

"Wow." Freed leans back. "That's surprisingly good advice."

"Don't let Jijii hear you say it that way," Laxus says with a grin.

"This helped you?" Freed asks.

"That, and other things."

"What other things?"

"He had me sing…"

"Sing?" Freed blinks at him, relaxing more as conversation flows. "You? Really?"

"He said it's inherently calming. I think it helps you take even breaths, and if you're focusing on the song, you can't think about other things." Laxus shrugs. He's never told anyone this stuff. "He had me sleep in between him and Obaachan, too, especially when things were bad. Being close to people…it helped."

Swallowing, Freed nods. "I think it would help me too."

He's not looking at Laxus, and that's good, because Laxus has no idea how to react. Is Freed asking to sleep with him? Laxus lies there stiffly, waiting for more.

"I often feel lonely," Freed whispers. His mouth twists.

"Me too," Laxus says. It's not something he feels comfortable telling anybody else.

Freed's body jerks.

"May I?" he asks.

Laxus almost asks what he's talking about, but searching Freed's reddening face, he senses Freed will get too flustered and leave. So he nods. _Anything_.

"Thank you." The relief in Freed's voice is a whole separate entity.

As Freed draws his feet up, Laxus waits in trepidation. Is he going to, is he really going to…?

He does.

As he lies down on the far edge of the bed, Freed slides the barest corner of the comforter over himself. Laxus scoots even farther back until a majority of the bed lies between them, holding more comforter toward Freed. Hesitantly, Freed makes himself comfortable.

Laxus keeps his eyes shut at first: Freed is twitchy, shifting. When Laxus pretends to fall asleep, Freed finally settles down.

In the dark, Laxus watches his teammate, mesmerized. Freed always ties his hair back at night, but in sleep, green wisps escape and stick out in funny directions, matching the zaggy cowlicks which remind Laxus of his favorite weather feature. Defensive even at rest, Freed's hand covers part of his face, his guildmark stretching proudly over his skin.

It's hard not to love Freed like this, and something lighter than air expands in Laxus's chest. Somehow he manages to sleep, Freed's soft breathing issuing him into dreamless peace.

In the middle of the night, Freed rolls up against him in the bed. Shivering and groaning, he wakes Laxus immediately, panic crawling up Laxus's throat at how cold Freed's skin is. Sweat has soaked that half of the bed, but what concerns him most is Freed's face pressed against his bicep.

Laxus. Doesn't. Move.

He's not sure what to do: whether to pull away or to stay. Excruciating minutes pass in frozen indecision before Freed lashes awake with a gasping yell.

Laxus can count the seconds it takes Freed to get his bearings.

Freed jerks away from him.

Desperate, Laxus touches his hand. That's it: just the tips of his fingers catching on Freed's palm. There's a long moment, Laxus not breathing while Freed is still panting through his fear. With slow deliberation, Freed wraps his fingers around Laxus's.

Then he squeezes, deathly tight, and shudders once.

Even after the shudder passes through him, Freed doesn't let go. It's going to hurt, Laxus knows: the blood is getting cut off, and at some point his fingers will protest, but right now, he doesn't care.

Eventually, Freed falls back asleep. And sure, Laxus's fingers are bruised a bit the next morning. Evergreen even makes a snide remark about him doing too much jerking and not enough sleeping—apparently Laxus looks tired, though he can't see it himself. The point is, Freed slept the rest of the night.

The next night, Freed comes back, mumbling about needing Laxus's help again, but as they're drifting off on opposite sides of the bed, Freed's hand comes to rest next to Laxus's arm. At some point in the night, he grabs on, and when they wake the next day, Freed's hand is trapped under Laxus's, their fingers woven together.

They never mention it.

Freed doesn't need excuses after that: each night, after the others go to bed, Freed slips into the room—he doesn't even knock anymore, just comes and slides beneath the covers. Laxus always leaves room for him. Sleeping together becomes their thing.

Then comes the night when Freed lies down and pulls Laxus's arm over himself.

Again, Laxus can't move, so afraid of messing this up, but Freed curls up and nestles down like this is how things should be. Laxus falls in love with this new development. To be honest, his fingers were feeling the effects of Freed's nightly abuse. He likes this much better: Freed's back centimeters from his body, Laxus's arm encircling him, able to sense at a moment's notice when something is wrong.

The next night Laxus doesn't ask—though maybe he should've—if it's okay to embrace Freed: he just does it, and Freed lets him. The hug is loose, but at some point, Freed closes the gap between their bodies, pressing his back gently against Laxus's chest, and Laxus pretty much doesn't sleep all night. He's too busy with his heart beating in overdrive at having Freed so close. At smelling him so strongly.

It feels more intimate than they've ever been.

* * *

 **A/N:** With work, I don't have time to post the other 2 chapters right now! Ack! I'll get them up later today when I can.


	2. Part II

**A/N:** FFN lovelies, thank you so much for waiting. I had troubles with the website (and then no internet for a little while). The rest is up now :)

* * *

 **Part II**

Laxus and Freed's sleeping arrangement goes on for weeks, and then months. At some point Bickslow and Ever realize Freed isn't sleeping in his own bed, but nobody says anything, for which Laxus is grateful.

They keep going on jobs, cooking meals, drinking at the guildhall. Freed reads his way through several dozen books. As time passes, Laxus can't help noticing Freed looks less worn. Getting enough sleep is showing, and it makes Laxus proud.

He just wants Freed to be okay. Like this, forever. That would be enough to make him happy.

He doesn't need Freed to himself—Laxus is okay being alone. He just needs Freed not to suffer.

But it can't last, like most things. It never was going to last, because they're both men, and attracted to each other, and no matter how well Laxus hides aspects of his body in the morning, he has no control over Freed's physical reactions.

Actually, it's amazing it didn't happen sooner.

One morning, Freed wakes up hard. The usual thing, morning wood. But Freed goes absolutely nuts.

It starts with Laxus waking from a comforting dream, his arm (which Freed once again claimed) flexing around the man at his chest. Freed snuffles against him, some of his hair stuck to Laxus's mouth, and Laxus gently extracts it, careful not to move too much because he's enjoying Freed's breath on his bare chest. Shifting, Freed groans, a sound which Laxus can't pinpoint as either fear or regular mundane dreams.

That's when he notices the faint smell of pleasure. Looking down between them, he sees the lump in Freed's boxers. Laxus wets his mouth. Damn.

Why does Freed have to be _facing_ him today?

His thoughts transform into confusion and sludge when Freed startles awake. The rune mage blinks, hazy, and then his expression changes. His knees come up protectively.

Freed springs from the bed, moving so quickly his back smacks the wall.

"Shit," Freed grumbles. "Shit."

His hand twitches as if to cover himself, but he seems to realize that will only draw more attention, glancing at Laxus with a hopeful look like he's counting on Laxus not noticing. As if. But Laxus is startled enough that nothing shows on his face, and Freed makes for the door without that mortified shame Laxus abhors.

"Shit—" Freed says again as he darts into the hall. Hurried steps preclude the sound of Freed's door, the solid click of the lock. Like an omen.

Laxus pads down the hall—he doesn't want to snoop, but he's worried. At Freed's door, he hears nothing: no breathing, no movement…then a muffled sob tears a hole through his heart.

He waits a few seconds listening to the awful noises. It seems Freed is crying into a pillow because very little sound makes it out. That makes it so much worse.

Freed can't even let himself cry.

Dragging back to his room, Laxus wipes his own eyes. He's not crying: he isn't. No, Freed is the one crying, and Laxus breaks just knowing. Why can't he do anything? Why can't he take care of Freed?

Why does it hurt so much?

The lightning Slayer gets dressed wondering what he's doing with himself, and if anything he does in life truly matters when there are people like Freed dealing with shit he can't do anything about. Maybe he'll just be useless to Freed the rest of his life.

Maybe…what if Laxus is part of the problem?

* * *

Laxus is at the table with a moody cup of black coffee when Freed emerges. Even after a shower, Freed's eyes are swollen and his face pale. Laxus freezes, gaping, having never seen Freed so visibly upset.

Freed sees his expression and sinks in on himself.

"Not going to pass, am I?" he asks.

Laxus shakes his head.

"I'm staying home today," Freed says, moving into the kitchen so they don't have to look at each other. "Hope that's alright."

"Of course that's alright."

He really, really wants to stay with Freed. He's on the point of asking, but Freed says, "I signed a job for us yesterday evening. One-day thing. Is it okay if I ask you guys to take it without me?"

"Yeah," Laxus says, but he's anxious. Freed all alone…

"I need a break. One day. I'm just not feeling good."

"Of course, Freed. Take all the time you need."

Freed's body goes absolutely still. There's a strong scent of tears in the air. Laxus doesn't understand. Was that comment wrong somehow?

Freed goes on making breakfast as if everything is okay, hair obscuring his face, and Laxus vacates the room quickly. Maybe Freed can pretend, but Laxus can't. Not when he hears Freed hold his breath.

Even though it shatters him, he leaves later with Ever and Bicks, leaving his beloved behind. That's what Freed is to him: he can't get away from that anymore. He loves Freed, and it just might break his heart.

* * *

When they get back that night, Freed is nowhere to be found. Laxus knows it as soon as they enter the house, but he doesn't say anything as Ever and Bickslow search, too busy trying not to worry.

"I thought he wasn't feeling good," Bickslow says, visor off, eyes creased in concern.

Laxus opens his mouth, not sure what to say, but both men jump when Ever sniffles.

"Did we break him?" she whispers, tears streaming down her face.

"What?" Laxus stammers in shock. Evergreen never cries.

"A year ago he started being like this," she sobs. "Is he depressed? Did we do something? Is he too stressed with work? I just want him to be okay. I never say anything because it's Freed, but what if…what if…"

She takes a huge breath.

"He's okay," Laxus says. "He just wasn't feeling good today."

"He is not okay!" She glares. "How can you say that? I know you're in love with him—"

"Ever!" Bickslow exclaims.

"—so don't tell me you haven't noticed, Laxus. Something happened. Freed _changed_ , and I don't know why."

"Maybe it's not our business," Laxus growls, the words tasting like acid. He has pictures in his head he'll never erase. The memory of Freed's blood. "Maybe we should give him his space."

"Or maybe he'll _die_ if we do that. Maybe space is the opposite of what he needs!"

As she dissolves into tears, it hits him like a thunderclap: Ever's sister committed suicide.

When Laxus walks over and gives her an awkward hug, Ever grabs him like a lifeline, Bickslow joining in. In this family embrace, all warmth and tears and comfort, the gaping wound of Freed's absence makes Laxus realize how terrified he would be if Ever were right: the idea that Freed might not just leave, he might _leave_ …

When Ever calms down, Laxus pulls away to stomp toward his room, muttering, "I'll find him."

Just needs to switch into a coat that doesn't smell like Freed so his nose can do its work. That's what it's good for.

Opening his bedroom door, he feels the tingle of magic just as he registers what's on the bed. Freed dozing with his knees against his chest.

"Found him," he says softly.

"Really?" Ever exclaims, her and Bickslow darting forward, but Laxus puts up a hand.

"He's asleep." He looks back at them, realizing there's no good way to explain this situation. He's not entirely sure he _can_ explain. "He's okay."

Purple runes flicker when he crosses the threshold and closes the door, explaining why he didn't hear Freed. Barriers, just like Freed has around his soul.

"Is Ever okay?"

Jerking, Laxus realizes there are bright green eyes watching him.

"Uh, yeah." Laxus perches on his side of the bed, half turned away. "She thought if you were sick, you'd be at home, but—"

"I heard everything," Freed interrupts.

Of course he did.

"Thank you," Freed murmurs. Laxus doesn't know what for. "I'm not going to do anything drastic."

Laxus can't bear that piercing gaze. He stares down at his hands instead, which are fisted on his knees—his clumsy, violent hands which don't know how to love someone.

"Good. I'd rather you didn't," Laxus says, but his voice cracks. "Freed—"

"I'm okay." Freed's voice is smooth. "I'm sorry if I've worried you."

"You haven't," Laxus lies.

"Ever's right, though. You don't have to give me so much space. I'm still your bodyguard. I'm here for you."

Turning his back, Laxus looks out the small window at the trees waving against the sky. Freed is here for him, when Laxus can't even comfort Freed properly.

A leaf falls past the glass and he breaks down.

Closing his eyes, he silently wills the tears away and opens his mouth to breathe, throat tight, doing everything he can to keep his shoulders from shaking.

Eventually Laxus reclaims his voice. "I'm sorry if we woke you."

"It's alright. I wasn't sleeping."

Laxus gathers himself and turns. "What were you doing?"

Freed opens his mouth; closes it again.

When he doesn't answer, Laxus draws his feet up and lies down across from him. It's so natural to stare at each other across the pillows, lying in the same bed. Their relationship is closer than it ever was before It happened, and yet… Freed pours out his soul on behalf the team, but somehow remains locked against others' concern, others' warmth.

Even when they've been staring at each other for minutes and it should be awkward, neither of them looks away. They exist here together without having to traverse the scary territory of unspoken trauma.

Laxus seems to have a somnambulistic effect on Freed, because his beloved's eyes begin to droop. Personally, he takes it as a compliment: Freed can rest with him. It's a form of letting go, and it feels like a privilege.

So Freed naps and Laxus watches him.

There aren't any nightmares.

Not until Laxus's own mind slips into dreams, where memories of Freed's worst night swirl through him.

There's the dusky scent of his rune mage on the wind, coming from behind one of the bars they occasion. A strange scuffle; dream-Laxus doesn't know what it is yet. Just aware enough to exercise conscious control, real-life-Laxus tries not to round that corner because he knows how this story goes…

But he does it anyway, because this is a memory, unchangeable. Because if he doesn't check, who knows what will happen?

There between the backdoor and the dustbin is Freed—captured, thrashing, and two men over him, and clothes pulled away, and _oh_. Freed's face is beyond terror: it's animalistic. Still at the other end of the alley, Laxus growls low and deep, and all three look at him, two in shock, the other in terrible, heart-rending shame. One man gets off Freed; the other one holding Freed shoves him down, cracking Freed's head against the wall with a sickening sound; they flee.

Running down the alley, Laxus crouches at Freed's side, but Freed is trying to hide behind his hands, making unformed pleading sounds as he avoids Laxus's eyes. The smell of blood is sharp and caustic. Laxus wants to help—Freed is injured—but Freed shouts at him, humiliated, broken. When Laxus reaches out, Freed screams.

The words _get away_ rip into Laxus's soul. He backs up, cramming painful, boiling emotions into tight corners he doesn't have to look at. He doesn't want to feel anymore.

All he feels is rage.

Laxus looks to where the men disappeared. He wants death.

Everybody says Dragneel is the best tracker, but Laxus has speed. Fast as an electric current, he chases the men down. When he rams into them, he sends them crashing through a wall. It's enough to knock one out, and Laxus picks the other up by the hair and snarls.

Urges he doesn't understand rage inside him, and his teeth are aching. Without thought, he hefts the man against the wall and sinks his fangs into the man's throat.

A scream—

Laxus is torn into the waking world by Freed shaking his shoulder.

"Laxus. Dinn—"

The Dragon Slayer snatches Freed's hand, tight, so tight. He needs this to be real. He needs Freed to be safe. The rune mage jolts in his grasp, trying to pull away, but Laxus hangs on instinctively. Nothing will take Freed away from him.

"Laxus!" Freed gasps, his panicked voice finally breaking through the dark fog around Laxus's brain.

"Shitfuck." Laxus lets go. "Gods. Shit."

Rubbing his hand, Freed eyes him like he's a snake about to bite.

"I'm sorry." Laxus tries to reign in his breathing. "Y-You startled me."

Freed's expression softens.

"Sorry—"

"Don't apologize," Laxus interrupts, heart running out of control. He tries to be normal. "It's fine. Just a dream."

Freed bites his lip.

"How can I help?"

"Just…" _Hold me_ , is what Laxus wants to say. But he can't ask that of Freed. "Just be here."

"Okay."

Laxus sits up and massages his pounding head, staring at Freed's toes while Freed stands beside him. Solid and present. _I love you_ , Laxus wants to say. _Don't leave me_.

Once his pulse calms down, he looks up into those green eyes.

"Dinner?" he asks.

"Yeah." Freed smiles at him, offering a hand up.

* * *

Freed has a bad night, tossing beside Laxus and startling him from sleep. When Freed yells, he doesn't wake himself, in too deep.

Laxus calls his name. More urgent when Freed doesn't respond. At last with Laxus nearly shouting, Freed comes to, shivering and crying before he's even awake. Something has a hold of him, Freed curling into a ball with his knuckles white and face bloodless, breaths coming too fast.

It's terrifying.

But panic hasn't completely taken him over, because his wandering gaze finds Laxus and focuses on him.

"Freed… Freed, it's okay." Saying his name seems to anchor him. "I'm here, Freed."

"Laxus."

"Hey. It's okay." Laxus just wants to reach out and touch him.

"When you were little," Freed stutters, "did Master teach you tricks for after nightmares?"

"Focus on your senses," Laxus says immediately. "Count them. Three things you can smell, hear, touch, see…"

Quivering, Freed's mouth begins moving. His lips are pale, and Laxus wonders how he can be cold despite being drenched in sweat.

When Freed's eyes close, a part of Laxus's world falls deaf. Freed is cut off from him, mouthing soundless words.

If prayers can do anything, may the gods take Laxus's strength and pour it into this beautiful, exhausted man.

Shivers chase up and down Freed's body, and he clamps his jaw on chattering teeth.

"May I?" Laxus murmurs, raising his hand so it's clear what he's asking.

"M— Mm," Freed nods, wide eyes locked on Laxus's fingers.

Slowly, so slowly, Laxus touches Freed's shoulder. Painful yearning crosses Freed's face, which tugs at Laxus, intrigues him. He's going to think about that look a lot later.

Gently, Laxus massages him, moving across the tense muscles of Freed's upper back. It's not enough to relax him, but his breathing comes down to something normal, something that doesn't sound like he's been running all night.

Then Freed begins to hum. It's tired and quiet, and Laxus doesn't know the tune, but he listens to the eerie sound of it, hollow and haunting. It seems to resonate through Freed, to fill in the black box of his soul with color: like Laxus can see him in three dimensions for the first time.

"You're amazing," Laxus whispers in awe, still rubbing Freed's back. He doesn't think about the words beforehand; they're true.

The corners of Freed's mouth curl up, but he doesn't stop his song.

Freed's voice gets fainter until he trails off, face slack with fatigue. Focusing on maintaining consistent touch, Laxus keeps massaging Freed's back in even circles until the man's heartbeat slows, body slumping into the bed like a ragdoll.

But when Laxus slides away, Freed says, "Stay."

So Laxus drapes himself around Freed. The rune mage puts his forehead against Laxus's collarbone, knees still pulled up to his chest, while Laxus puts an arm about his shoulders.

The Dragon Slayer watches until his own eyes are drooping shut, when a low voice says, "I'm sorry I need you."

"Don't be sorry." Laxus slides his thumb over Freed's shoulder blade. "Please don't be sorry."

As Freed drops off, Laxus forces himself to stay awake so he can keep rubbing Freed's back long into the night.

* * *

The next morning, Laxus is exhausted. He's not sure why he woke up, but then Freed shifts and sits up, and he realizes he probably woke as soon as Freed did. Laxus's body is tuned to him.

They don't discuss what happened as they both yawn and stretch. Don't need to. Laxus knows Freed will come to him when he needs something; can feel Freed beginning to trust him.

When Laxus puts his feet on the floor, Freed takes his hand, startling him. The rune mage has a determined set to his mouth.

"I want to kiss you," Freed says.

Laxus gapes.

Freed pauses like he's waiting for Laxus to give his consent, but Laxus doesn't remember how words work. Tilting his head, Freed stretches across the bed and presses his lips to Laxus's.

The moment feels holy as Laxus leans in and kisses Freed back. Gods, they're _kissing_. Moving slow, because Laxus fears hurting Freed and wants to soak in every glorious moment. Freed's hand is still in his, squeezing when his tongue glides across Laxus's lips. Velvety and light, that tongue shocks Laxus and makes his insides dissolve.

It's not like they haven't done this before, but everything feels new. The Freed kissing him now is cautious. But he's still Freed. Laxus's Freed. Who knows how to use his mouth on Laxus and suck him into weak-kneed surrender.

When Freed pauses to catch his breath, Laxus murmurs against his lips, "Oh my god."

Freed's expression twists into a thousand shapes—happy, unsure, longing.

"You can keep going," Laxus says.

"I…think I'm done," Freed whispers, disentangling their hands.

Too fast. Shying away.

Freed's face closes as he scoots to the edge of the bed. Like he's ashamed.

"You can still hold my hand," Laxus says, desperate. "If you want to."

Freed pauses.

"Even if I'm not going to kiss you?" he asks, staring in the opposite direction so all Laxus sees is green hair.

"Yeah. Of course."

"What if," Freed creeps back toward him, "I hold your hand and sleep in your bed, but don't kiss you or make out with you or…anything?"

"That's fine, too."

Freed's hand is next to his now, little fingers touching. Laxus is so relieved they're having this conversation. It opens new ground, fear giving way to clarity. If they establish these expectations, he can avoid triggering Freed on accident.

Still folded in on himself, Freed asks, "You're sure?"

"Yes."

"I'm never going to be that way again," Freed says in a rush.

Laxus takes a heavy breath before speaking. Afraid of being vulnerable. But if he doesn't trust Freed, whom does he trust?

"I'm alright with that," he admits honestly.

Freed looks at him like he's crazy.

"I know what I'm saying," Laxus insists. "I know what I want."

Freed swallows. Laxus can't look at him, truths too raw. Admitting he wants this, that just this closeness is enough, is somehow harder than if he were asking for sex.

Laxus has his own fear—of rejection and loneliness—and it's going crazy in this silence.

Fingers slide between his.

"Good," Freed says softly. "So do I."

A smile tips up the side of Laxus's mouth.

They sit there for a long time: Laxus's thumb comes around to clasp Freed's hand properly, Freed nudges closer on the bed, and when Laxus finally manages to raise his eyes, he finds the other man is just as timid. It's like they're twelve-year-olds holding hands for the first time, but Laxus can't find it in him to care. A foreign shyness has him biting his lip.

"I guess we should get up," Freed says, blushing and giving Laxus a tiny grin.

"Yeah." Laxus smiles back. "You shower; I'll start breakfast."

"Breakfast is my job," Freed protests.

"I know how to cook, Freed," Laxus chuckles. "Go before Bickslow uses all the hot water."

That gets Freed moving.

When their hands part, they grin at each other again, just to be sure.

The rest of the morning is regular, how it's supposed to be. They're at each other's sides, not touching more than normal, which satisfies them both. Laxus would be equally fine with more touch, but he knows Freed doesn't want that, and he's content as is.

Really, he's just satisfied having Freed near. His life was never _about_ Freed: Laxus has missions, and Fairy Tail, and people to help. That is what Laxus does, what he's about. Freed isn't another project—not a task or goal. He's the person Laxus wants at his side.


	3. Part III

**Part III**

 **A/N** **:** I HAVE INTERNET. _Finally_ the last chapter.

* * *

A few days later, the team is returning from a quest, winding their way through the outskirts of a small town, when Bickslow stops them.

"Ever," he says nervously. "Maybe this is a good place to get the thing."

"Probably."

"What thing?" Laxus asks.

"Nothing!" Bickslow hooks his arm through Evergreen's. "You'll just make fun of me."

"Finally making a move?"

"Shut up."

"Come on," Ever says, amused. "We'll be back in a few, guys."

With nothing to do, Laxus and Freed lean in the shade of a shop, lazy, until Freed's loud voice makes him jump.

"What do you want?" Freed demands.

Turning, Laxus sees three people kicking down the street seemingly as bored as he and Freed, but their eyes are too focused and they're ranged in a semi-circle, closing in.

"We want…pocket change?" one of them guesses dryly.

"Walk away." Freed draws his sword, so tense he might explode if someone nudges him.

"Whoa. Shouldn't mess with them."

"Swords hurt," his friend agrees.

Without warning, the third lunges. A prickle of magic precedes a gout of flames which wrap around Freed's blade.

Freed makes a bellow of animalistic noise. A scream unlike anything Laxus ever heard, rending the air apart. It raises the hair on his neck, and the thugs freeze for a moment.

Freed begins to write. Power pulses through his fingers. Hardly a second has passed; these three are small fry—Laxus calculates a dozen ways to finish this in moments. But something about Freed's face captivates him: the control, the _focus_. It's stunning and lovely and Laxus wants to be a part of it. He takes Freed's hand.

When Laxus pushes magic into Freed's skin, he feels something push back, the sweet touch of power flow into him. Freed's heart twines around his when they glance at each other.

In that moment, they are in perfect harmony.

Runes explode in a burst of lightning. Whole sentences streaming out of Freed at the speed of light. Laxus can read them, understands them.

They share everything. He feels Freed's fear, and knows it intimately because it's the same fear Laxus feels for him, while Laxus's fury and sense of impotence is mirrored back to him from Freed.

Their magic sweeps over the street. As soon as it started, it's over. Three sizzling, unconscious heaps lie in the blackened street.

"That…might've been an overreaction," Freed says, hair falling across his face as he stares down at one of the men.

"Worth it," Laxus says hoarsely.

Toeing the victim, Freed's shoulders jerk. Laxus frowns.

Twisting around, Freed grabs Laxus's shirt—and gasps into his chest.

The switch is so fast. Freed shakes apart, crying out until Laxus grips him tightly. With the threat gone, all that's left is emptiness and adrenaline. The rune mage gulps air like he can't breathe. Laxus is scared, but holding Freed is his focus right now. Freed needs him. Laxus, who has always been here for him, finally gets to be _here_ for him.

As tears soak into Laxus's shirt, Freed tries to calm his breathing, but fresh emotion rolls over him. Laxus runs his fingers over Freed's back, wanting to tell him it's okay to cry.

"This is how I am now," Freed mutters. "This."

Laxus leans his cheek against the top of Freed's head.

"The anger—makes me strong," Freed stutters. "I'm okay with that. But everything else is broken."

"How can you be broken if you're okay with who you are?"

"I-I don't know," Freed whispers.

Laxus murmurs, "I'm sorry."

Freed's arms tighten around him.

"Gods, this is stupid." Freed's chuckle is wet, derogatory. "I could've fended that off alone. Why am I crying?"

"I dunno…I think it's normal sometimes. Things get to us." Laxus bites his lip and adds, "You're not reading enough good novels, Freed, or you'd know this."

Freed chuckles for real, and even though he sniffs afterward, Laxus smiles. When Freed leans against Laxus's chest again, it's different: his ear rests over Laxus's heart and he breathes deeply.

"Thank you," Freed says.

Laxus thinks about everything that just happened, about Freed coming to him for help.

"Thank you," he replies.

Freed looks at him, brow bent in confusion.

"It's just…I know you wouldn't do this with just anyone."

"I wouldn't do this with anyone but you," Freed whispers, squeezing Laxus's waist. "Just you."

Not knowing what to say, Laxus holds him and smiles.

"So…we just fused our magic," Freed says when his voice clears.

"I told you it would work."

Freed laughs. "I liked how it felt, writing that fast. I swear I was thinking faster."

"You think fast already: your fingers could just keep up this time." Laxus grins. "Damn, I never realized just how many separate things your runes do."

"I did even more with the added power. Not that nuance was necessary, but…I like to use finesse when I have the time."

In Freed's embrace, the man warm and alive against his body, Laxus feels secure. Honesty rises to his lips.

"I like working with you, Freed."

From the way Freed sighs happily, Laxus can tell he hears the real sentence: _I like you_.

* * *

It's not like Laxus is unused to sneak attacks. He's a Dreyar, and famous, and life has taught him to be alert. But he isn't ready to fend off an attack after a monotonous job in a small village.

Panting (Laxus did a lot of whizzing around), he and the Raijinshuu are heading back toward town when something heavy rams into him from behind. Heavy and fucking _painful_. Like a scorching wind grinding into his skin.

Whirling, Laxus takes a swing at whoever is attacking, but he has two problems: his arm doesn't want to move that far and his enemies are standing too far away—a group ranged on the knoll above them.

The Raijinshuu rush to their Dragon Slayer's defense while Laxus gathers his magic. Damn, he's more drained than he thought.

As he throws a bolt of lightning, another pain rips his back, sharp against the first wound. Laxus actually drops to a knee. He's fine, he knows he is, he's Laxus Dreyar and this is easy stuff, but he's tired and _fuck_ that throbs and he's pretty sure from the sticky feel his back is now bleeding…

He can't locate his attacker anywhere. When the third invisible strike comes, Laxus groans.

"Laxus." Freed extends a hand.

Freed's magic pushing into his palm gives Laxus the strength to stand. The sharp pain in his back falls distant, like it's happening to someone else. As he and Freed synchronize—their focus, feelings, and goddamn pulses blending—a new magic shoots out of them.

Concussive like thunder, it closes on specific targets and barrages them until they drop from shock. Together they take out the five people the Raijinshuu were fighting and a sixth up in a tree.

Laxus and Freed don't let go of each other at first—just in case they need to do it again. Holding hands ceased being awkward a while ago.

Behind Laxus, Evergreen whistles. "Damn."

"Let me see," Freed says.

"Not sure what she hit me with," Laxus grumbles, relinquishing Freed's fingers so the man can poke gently at the wound on his back.

"High-velocity sand," Freed says. "She basically grated your skin off. Maybe speed magic too—I've never seen sand move so fast."

"How bad is it?"

Coming into his field of view, Ever raises her eyebrows. Shit. Laxus sighs, which makes his back twinge.

"You're going to be sleeping on your stomach for a while," Freed says. "But only a couple scratches are truly deep."

A huffing Bickslow marches up to them dragging a person.

"Next time, don't knock them all out," he whines. "This was the only one I could get conscious. She says they were hired to go after Laxus."

"Did she say why?" Freed asks.

"Someone we locked up. Did their time, now 'reclaiming' their life."

"At least we sent a message," Laxus says.

Freed shoots him a reproving look, but a smile twitches his lips.

"You two are getting better at melding your magic," Ever comments as she and Bickslow collect the prisoners; Freed begins cleaning Laxus's wound.

"It's invigorating to feel my strength double," Freed says with an audible smile. "Although shit, Laxus: your injury really bites."

"You could feel it?"

"When we synced, yes."

When they return to town, the Raijinshuu kindly agree to stay the night so he doesn't have to ride the train like this: lying down or even sitting sucks.

That night in their room, Laxus changes out of his ripped clothes while Freed pulls out a book. Bickslow toddles off in search of a late snack, so it's just them.

"The oddest things make me panic sometimes," Freed says.

Laxus turns around blinking, halfway out of his shredded shirt.

"Um…?"

"When a weakness like that strikes me, I like to conquer it myself. You're the same way. So I hope I didn't cross a line when I gave you more stamina."

"When?"

"To help you stand. That wasn't just the Raid: I used runes." Freed blushes. "Sorry."

"I don't mind." Laxus shrugs (which hurts). "We work together. It's not like you treat me like I'm weak."

"Of course not," Freed says, horrified. "Never. But…personally I can't accept help sometimes. I guess you're stronger than me in that area."

"Baka, I'm just like you," Laxus sighs, stripping off his pants and discovering blood-drips down the backside. "I've got my pride. This is different because it's you."

"That's where we vary." Freed looks away. "I'm not good at trusting you."

Laxus stops what he's doing, sitting on one of the beds and observing the faraway nostalgia in Freed's eyes.

"I don't expect you to accept my help." Laxus grumbles, "You don't usually."

"I'm sorry." With a heavy sigh, Freed walks over and sits beside him, looking him in the eye with a gaze that is deeper and darker than the ocean. "I know it's hard for you. You know what happened, and it hurts you. You want to do something."

Oh holy gods, they're talking about That. That night, that unspoken mountain. When Laxus responds with a grunt, Freed raises an eyebrow.

"You can't keep those emotions bottled up from me: I know you too well."

Laxus stares at his lap.

"Then let's stop pretending you don't know how much I care about you," he says gruffly. "Yeah, your pain hurts me. But I get it if you don't want my help. You don't owe me anything."

"It's not that I don't want it, Laxus. You help quite often, actually."

About to voice his disbelief, Laxus startles when Freed holds out a hand. After a second, Laxus takes it.

"See?" Freed whispers. "Helping."

"This didn't always." He has to say it: has to understand why it's okay—when it is and isn't. "Touch used to be bad."

"It still is. But once I realized you didn't have expectations, it became okay for you." Freed squeezes his hand. "You convinced me you aren't a threat. Every time you hold me without demanding anything, it becomes more okay."

Laxus swallows. "I don't ever want to demand things from you."

Freed rises suddenly, pacing across the room and back.

"You have needs—sexual needs." He pauses. "Right?"

Laxus scratches his neck. He can't keep up with Freed's brain sometimes.

"I guess. What do you mean 'needs'?"

"You need sexual satisfaction at regular intervals from your romantic partners."

"I wouldn't call that a need," Laxus chuckles awkwardly. At Freed's incredulous look, he says, "Nobody _needs_ sex."

"For closeness? A sense of intimacy?"

"Are you saying you're not close with your friends?" Laxus counters. "You don't sleep with them."

"That's different."

"Freed," Laxus sighs, "what are we talking about?"

Freed pauses with his back to Laxus.

"Nothing."

It's _not_ nothing. Laxus has a feeling he knows exactly what it is.

When Freed wanders back over, Laxus wraps his arms loosely around Freed's waist and Freed lets him draw him into an embrace. Since Laxus is sitting, his head only comes to Freed's chest.

The Dragon Slayer stares up into that beautiful face and asks, "Would you go out with me?"

Freed gapes. "Go out?"

"On a date."

"Me? No, wait— Hold on…" He pushes out of Laxus's grasp, arms around himself.

"You can say no," Laxus says quickly. "Obviously."

"I thought, but, well, you understand, don't you?" Freed says in a rush. "I can't be that kind of person."

"What kind of person?"

"Don't play dumb," Freed snaps. "I'm not going to have sex with you."

"Did I ask for sex?" Laxus growls.

"That's what comes after a date. If not the first, then after several. That's the need for closeness we just talked about."

"I told you, nobody _needs_ sex."

They glare at each other. Laxus has to stand, put the sudden energy in his body to use. He gets away from Freed, not wanting to tower over him, and puts a hand on the wall, inhaling while Freed watches him.

"I just want a date. We share a bed, share our magic…we're close, and I want to be closer. If it's possible. That's all. No secret demands."

Freed is quiet for so long Laxus's nervousness becomes a slick ball in his stomach. His leg jitters uncontrollably.

"Are you attracted to me?" Freed asks.

The question is full of dark edges. He doesn't want Freed thinking he considers him ugly or is asking out of pity, but Freed distances himself from any image making him out as a sexual being.

"Yes," Laxus finally admits. _Very._

"So you do want things."

"That doesn't follow at all."

"Yes, it does," Freed argues. "Attraction is a desire to fuck something."

He enunciates as if the words taste like shit.

"Are you attracted to _me_?" Laxus grunts.

To his surprise, Freed's arms clench around himself.

"That's different!"

"How?"

"Of course I like you, but not like _that_. I don't want those things. With anyone. But I'm attracted to who you are, what you do…"

"Why don't you believe attraction works that way for me?"

"Because you're not like me!" Freed yells.

"So love is just sex for everyone but you?" Laxus glares at him, hot and furious. "If you don't want something sexual, Freed, I don't want to do it with you. Your preferences matter to me. I don't know how to make that clearer."

Freed presses his palms to his eyes.

"I have trouble believing."

A pause in their tirade gets them both to take a breath. While Laxus takes a cue from Freed and tries to calm himself, Freed looks over with sad determination.

"Prove me wrong."

Laxus opens his mouth and stares.

"If you're not like every other horny bastard, prove it," Freed repeats.

"I only can if you'll let me."

"We can go on a date," Freed says. "But only on the condition we may stop anytime and return to how things are, no questions or protests."

"Okay."

Freed swallows. "Okay."

Somehow, they make it through the awkward silence that follows, avoiding each other's eyes at the same time as they angle closer. Grabbing his book, Freed sits on the bed where Laxus tossed his torn garments, and Laxus finishes changing. Then there's the question of where he's going to sleep. After consideration, he moves toward an unoccupied mattress.

"Laxus." Freed motions to the free half of his bed.

"But Bickslow."

"Does it really matter? Besides, I can't sleep without you here."

That makes warm things glow in Laxus's belly. When he slides in next to Freed, the rune mage puts his book away and settles in too, flicking off the light.

"Thanks," Freed says in the darkness. "For asking."

"You say that like you're not fascinating, strong, and the most intelligent person in our guild."

"What?" Freed stammers.

"Don't be modest," Laxus teases, made brave by the darkness. "Anyone with a brain would date you."

"No. I'm not like that."

"You totally are."

"Not true," Freed says through gritted teeth.

Laxus frowns. "Why are you so insistent?"

"It's inaccurate," Freed hisses. "I'm not those things."

"You are to me."

"Stop," Freed begs. "I don't believe you, so it's just insulting."

The Dragon Slayer is dumbstruck, but then he connects Freed's words from months ago: Freed doesn't comprehend people liking him.

"Why do you think I asked you out?" Laxus asks slowly.

The light is too dim even for Laxus's eyes, but Freed's sigh comes out twisted and tense.

"Apparently it's not for sex. Or pity. So I have no idea."

Laxus shifts. "I said I like you."

"Well, I don't understand that," Freed says, calm, like this is a regular misunderstanding.

Boggled, Laxus tries to wrap his mind around this.

"Freed, why did you say yes?"

"Because…" Freed mutters, embarrassed.

"C'mon."

"Because I like you. You're a good person."

"But you're not," Laxus interprets.

"I'm not," Freed agrees.

The Dragon Slayer grunts.

"To me you are. I like how your mind works. You address people and issues with empathetic logic. I like that you're so creative, and your magic fits that. Conversations with you are the most interesting because you think about everything and I enjoy having to keep up.

"You've been willing to die for anyone on the team since the beginning, even when you didn't know us well. That's more than loyalty: you believe in people. That's incredibly attractive," Laxus says. "Does that help explain why I asked you out?"

"Not really," Freed says, and Laxus's heart falls. But Freed whispers, "It doesn't help because I don't want it to be true."

"Why on earth not?"

"Because I'm _broken_. It just can't be true. It can't."

"You don't have to be whole to be good," Laxus points out.

When Freed's shiver shakes the mattress, Laxus wants to ask if touch is okay, but Freed grabs him and pulls him close.

"If it's true about me," Freed murmurs, "then…then they might come back. So I can't be good. I can't. I don't want to be all those _attractive_ things. None of it…"

Laxus's whole body is cold as he clenches Freed tighter. The rune mage's words continue speeding out, panicked.

"If someone is attractive, or smart, or strong… It just presents a challenge. It's a conquest, and I refuse…I can't…"

"It doesn't mean that," Laxus insists. "Please. These things are how _I_ think of you. Fucking _bitches_ don't pay attention to shit like goodness. They're bastards. There isn't a reason. You don't make yourself a target by being wonderful— They're the fucking shit on the bottom of your shoe. There's no reasoning."

Breathless, he realizes he's speaking fast. He can't talk about this without rage choking him.

He doesn't even realize Freed is crying until Freed wipes his face and puts his wet palm over Laxus's heart.

"Th-There has to be a reason…"

"The reason is they're fucking evil."

"I have to be able to stop it. I have to understand."

"You _did_ stop it."

"But I didn't." Freed's nails dig into him, painful on his abused skin. "I don't want to be touched: I don't want to be touched anymore…"

They both breathe, loud and deep, for several long minutes.

Finally, Laxus admits his secret.

"They can't come back. One's incarcerated, and the other had his voice box crushed and requires apparatus to breathe."

Freed gasps. "What— What did you do?"

Laxus hates that Freed knows it was him.

"I chewed on his larynx," he grumbles.

 _"You what?"_ Freed sits bolt upright, hand clamping around Laxus's shoulder, irritating the blasted skin.

Shame nearly closes Laxus's throat, but he manages to get words out.

"I chased them. Tossed one through a wall. Bit the other. It…felt right at the time."

"Why the _hell_ did you do that?" Freed hisses.

"Because," Laxus growls, "as you so elegantly pointed out, I care too much."

Just like that, Freed moves to the edge of the bed and puts his feet on the floor.

"I'm not worth your fucking time, Laxus. Give it up."

"Gods, Freed!"

"You had no right. No right." Freed's voice rises, growing hysterical. "You saw— You…"

"I didn't mean to!" Laxus protests.

"I know, you just happened down that alley. Because I'm _lucky_ like that," he spits. "You scared those fuckers off and saved my life. I know I should be grateful; except I don't even want to talk about that night, so how the hell am I supposed to thank you? Now I'm forever indebted to you. I can't pay you back. I'll always just be weak to you."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Freed clicks on the light and glares at him. On instinct, Laxus puts out a hand, shocked and a little afraid, but Freed jerks back. "Don't touch me."

Staring into Freed's angry eyes, Laxus doesn't understand how anyone could ever consider him weak.

Freed shakes his head.

"See? I'm so broken." He goes for Laxus's hand, but his fingers tremble, and he pulls away. "I can't touch you anymore. I'm fucking broken. And I can't pay you back."

"We'll figure out the touch thing," Laxus says desperately. "You don't owe me. _Ever._ I would die for you, and that's not something you get to take from me, reduce it to some _economic transaction_ that has to be reciprocal. It's something I get to choose on my own. So don't talk about being indebted."

"Okay." Face screwing up, Freed presses his palms to his eye sockets. "I'm sorry I said that. I don't do anything right. I'm broken. You're perfect"

Laxus watches a strand of green hair fall off Freed's shoulder, wishing to tuck it back where it belongs, to touch Freed in whatever way he's allowed. Communicating in words is so hard, and sometimes Freed just doesn't seem to hear him.

"Laxus." Freed swallows. "I'm no longer able to be good enough for you. You could have so much more."

"That doesn't even make sense to me. What 'more' am I supposed to want? I have you; we're here; why the hell does it matter whether we touch or not?"

"Because at some point, you're going to wake up and realize you don't want me anymore. You'll go after someone who will let you do things to their body."

"Fuck." Laxus rubs a hand over his face. "You really don't think I'll stick around."

Freed sighs. The weight of a thousand pains in that heavy gust.

"I _want_ you to stick around. But I know better than to expect it. I know I'm…a second-rate partner." Laxus tries to interrupt, but Freed goes on, "I want you, but I wish I didn't so I could push you away—I wish I could exist alone. I'm pathetic."

"Being alone is for fools." Laxus shakes his head: exile taught him that. "It's okay to want things for yourself, Freed. I want you, too. And it's just as goddamn painful for me, because what if you're the one who wants something else and leaves?"

Freed reaches across the bed and grabs Laxus's face in his hands. Laxus is shocked. Despite the desperation in Freed's eyes, the gesture is so tender.

"Don't you dare fear that. My leaving isn't even a question." Leaning in, Freed presses his forehead to Laxus's. "I like you so much."

Laxus takes a shuddering breath, but it gets caught in his throat because Freed kisses him, hard and needy. His hot mouth is stifling, trying to devour Laxus, the lightning Slayer completely at his mercy. Freed laps into his mouth, nips his lip, and pulls back.

"I want this," Freed whispers, so broken. "But I just can't touch you."

Laxus puts his palms over Freed's.

"I don't need touch. Just please, please let me care about you."

"Okay." Freed's cheeks are wet. "I want you to."

That night is new, coiled around each other even more than usual, Freed's legs tangled with Laxus's. Every so often one will rouse and kiss the other, making out together while sleep lingers on the fringes. Their world exists of them alone and they totally forget about Bickslow until he comes back. Luckily, he settles in without turning on the light.

Something changes in the morning. Freed keeps making physical contact, little bits of pressure against Laxus's wrist or shoulder whenever he passes by.

Bickslow doesn't seem to notice. He _does_ notice the two climbing out of the same bed, but when nobody explains, he lies back down to sleep a little longer. Laxus thinks he sees Bicks's eyes glow for a second. He wonders what Bickslow sees when he looks at them.

* * *

The day of their date comes, and Freed tells Ever and Bickslow they'll be out for a bit. As Laxus closes the front door, he hears Ever ask, "Are they together?"

There's the usual nervousness at first, but it doesn't last beyond one block, conversation easy as they walk to dinner. That ease boosts Laxus's confidence—and Freed's.

They're both happy; Freed's laughter is frequent. The man is so smart Laxus often feels like Freed is reading him five layers deep, but it's never been uncomfortable and isn't now. Freed doesn't just have an absurdly high IQ: he gets along with people. Or with Laxus, anyway.

When they walk home, taking a long route and enjoying the night lights, Freed asks, "May I, um…hold your hand?"

"You always can," Laxus says, confused, though he smiles as Freed threads their fingers together.

"This is in public," Freed points out.

Right. Laxus had completely forgotten where they were.

He glances about the street out of the corner of his eye, feeling proud, like he's won a grand prize: Freed at his side. Freed walking close enough to brush shoulders with him, smiling peacefully at nothing in particular, is beyond anything he's dreamed for a long time.

"So what happens next?" Freed asks.

"I don't know." Laxus looks over at him. "What do you think?"

"I think we should go home, go to bed, and if I wake up and find you still beside me in the morning, I'll go from there."

Laxus grins.

The next morning, they're curled comfortably in their usual nonsexual cuddle.

When Freed is awake, Laxus says, "I'm still here."

A happy smile graces Freed's features.

"I'm glad I didn't scare you off."

Laxus's chest tightens. "Don't say shit like that. You can't scare me off."

"It was a joke," Freed says. "Though don't be so hasty."

"I know what I'm getting in bed with."

Freed chuckles and rolls to burrow his face into Laxus's neck.

"You're still okay with my requirements? No sensual touches?" Freed asks. "Because I'm trusting you."

"Still okay."

There's a soft sigh against his skin.

"Yesterday evening," Freed says. "Want to do that again?"

Laxus smiles. "I'd like that."

* * *

Summer hits and Magnolia grows hotter than a brick oven. When the sun goes down one evening, Laxus is still sweating even though he's shirtless. Preparing for bed, he gives Freed the side eye.

"Yes?" Freed asks without looking up from his book—a tinge of amusement in his voice. Laxus has noticed Freed takes particular joy from anticipating him.

"I have a weird question," Laxus says, "and you can say no."

"What is it?"

Laxus worries his lip.

"This heat's disgusting. I want to wear as little as possible." He pauses. "Preferably nothing."

"Oh." Freed looks up, eyes wide in his pale face. Laxus caves.

"It's okay. Never mind."

But Freed holds up a hand. "What I can't handle is…if you're turned on."

"Unlikely in this heat. But." Laxus spreads his hands and shrugs: only so much he can do.

"Could you not touch me?" Freed asks. "At all?"

"If you're uncomfortable, I'll wear clothes. It's no big deal."

"It's fine," Freed insists. "I just need you to promise not to touch me."

"Promise."

Freed lets out a breath and smiles—albeit it wearily, but Laxus is learning Freed's weariness isn't his fault. It's just a factor of Freed making hard decisions.

Laxus strips and crawls into bed, remembering countless summers like this begging for a breeze to waft through the window. After a few minutes, he notices Freed staring at him. Not sensual or judging, just…considering. Uncertain.

"I'm coming to bed," Freed says.

Laxus scoots to the far edge when Freed climbs in, giving as much space as possible. After the lights click out, Laxus's worry eventually calms and he drifts toward dreams.

He jumps out of his skin when a hand lands on his stomach.

Grabbing Freed's wrist, he pulls him away automatically. The sudden reaction makes Freed gasp, panicking, pulse pounding alongside harsh, desperate breaths.

"Sorry—" Laxus says, scooting back, and falls right off the bed.

Groaning, he rubs his rump, but he listens for sounds of Freed, waiting to hear how his beloved is reacting. A chuckle-sob makes him sit up.

"Freed?"

"I'm okay," Freed pants, fear lingering in his moonlit face, but a little laugh darts out of him, then another. "That was…kind of funny."

"Thanks," Laxus says with wounded pride.

With a snort, Freed bursts out laughing.

Though grumbling, Laxus starts laughing too. All of Freed's panic melts. Laxus feels a bruise forming on his tailbone—from falling out of a fucking _bed_ , but Freed's right: it's a little hilarious.

When he feels the emotional coast is clear, Laxus crawls back into bed, away from the edge this time, though there's still plenty of space between them.

Settling into a smile, Freed says, "Let's start over. May I touch you?"

"Sure," Laxus says, the darkness hiding his fluster.

The hand on his stomach doesn't startle him this time. It feels over him carefully: chest, face, abs, hip.

"You okay?" Laxus asks.

"Yes." Drawing back, Freed grips his hand. "You can sleep now. I'm going to ignore you."

Laxus isn't sure why Freed announces this, but Freed's soft breathing makes him realize: everything is deliberate for him. Even this: even _not_ noticing Laxus's body and sleeping instead. For him, everything with bodies is conscious and purposeful.

Thumb sliding over Freed's hand, he watches the man sleep and smiles.

* * *

A few months later, Laxus wakes with Freed's head on his shoulder. Lying in the early sunlight together, it's a beautiful, peaceful moment. Laxus's favorite.

Stretching, he plays his fingers down Freed's spine before extracting himself and sitting up. The jostling makes his boyfriend groan. With an unintelligible mutter, Freed rolls out of bed and hobbles toward the door.

"You could move stuff in here," Laxus says, voice deep with the early morning. "Then you wouldn't have to trek across the hall every morning."

"True," Freed says slowly.

"Just a thought. Maybe it's stupid. But we've got the space."

"It's not stupid. I like it." Freed tucks his hair behind an ear and smiles. "Even though I know you just want to stare at me longer in the morning."

Laxus grins. "Maybe."

"I'll move things in here after I dress. I don't own much."

"The giant stack of books you're reading already lives here," Laxus laughs, glancing at the dozen thick tomes towering on the side table.

Coming around the bed, Freed perches against Laxus's thigh and slides his hand into Laxus's.

"Reading is yet another thing I do so you can stare at me." He kisses Laxus's cheek.

It's true: in the evenings when Freed reads, Laxus lies next to him watching him. Usually getting lost in random thoughts, because he's bored and sleepy and Freed is nice to look at.

"If I move in here," Freed says, glancing about, "we could sublet the fourth bedroom. Offset rent."

"You're okay giving up your space?" Laxus asks in surprise.

"This is where I escape to now," Freed says wryly. "I only go in there to grab clothes."

Laxus tries hard not to smile too large. He likes where this is going and he doesn't want to spoil the joy by making it bigger than it is. Still, Freed moving in here—the rest of the way—feels like a big thing.

When Freed squeezes his hand, Laxus catches his smile; Freed clearly knows what he's thinking.

When Freed heads to his room, Laxus rises and makes coffee. As he pours himself a mug, he hears Bickslow's footsteps.

"How much did you make?" Bickslow asks.

"Enough for three." Evergreen swore off caffeine in solidarity with her pregnant girlfriend. "Why?"

"Is Freed having any?"

"He usually does." Laxus frowns. "Just how many cups are you planning to drink?"

"Two."

The flush creeping over Bickslow's face finally processes and the Dragon Slayer grins.

"Do we have a houseguest?"

"Yes," Bickslow mutters, thoroughly red.

"Elfman finally stayed the night. Damn." Laxus gives him a high-five.

"It's not like that…" Bickslow adds as he pours coffee.

"I know, I know. He's ace too or you wouldn't date him. Still."

They fall into silence, Laxus gloating: it's just too fun when Bickslow is flustered. Elfman himself lumbers out, yawning.

"Coffee, babe," Bickslow says, handing a mug over. "Sacrificed by Freed just for you."

Elfman nods at Laxus. "Thank your boyfriend for me."

Bickslow freezes, mouth open. Laxus and Freed have never used that term in front of anyone.

"I will." Laxus smiles, and Bickslow, now leaning shoulder to shoulder with Elfman, raises curious eyebrows. "By the way, Elfman," Laxus says, "your sister stayed the night as well."

Both men's eyes go wide.

"Shit," Elfman says.

Taking Elfman's arm, Bickslow scuttles back toward his room, Laxus chuckling as they disappear. Mira gets a _little_ protective of her brother, and even though she and Evergreen have dated for forever, she has yet to add Bickslow to her 'nice' list.

"What are you laughing at?" Freed asks, walking in tying his ascot.

"Elfman stayed over. And Mira's still here."

"How wonderful for Bickslow," Freed chuckles, leaning against Laxus's chest. After kissing Laxus on the cheek and chin, Freed embraces him.

"You're rather affectionate this morning," Laxus comments, loving every second of it.

"I moved my things. I think this means we're officially together. If sleeping together wasn't enough."

When he smiles up at Laxus, the lightning mage says, "We were together when we called each other boyfriends. They don't give extra kudos for living together."

"Damn. I was so hoping to rack up more relationship points than Ever. I refuse to lose to her."

Laxus snickers.

"By the way, Elfman called us boyfriends. Is it okay if others use that word?"

Freed blinks. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Just checking."

He pulls Freed closer and enjoys a long moment with Freed's body pressing against his. Their relationship is so much more intimate than anything Laxus imagined: sometimes it feels like Freed is living in his soul. He's never kissed past Freed's collarbone, but that seems insignificant. They sleep together and do life together and talk about things together. The stuff that matters. And maybe, since they don't have to worry about Freed's panic or about learning each other's bodies, the other kinds of intimacy are easier, purer.

Laxus could never have voiced that this is what he was looking for. But it turned out to be what he wanted and more. He loves his and Freed's life, and can't imagine it any differently.

* * *

 **A/N:** Yet another I might add omake too, but here it is for now. ^^ Thoughts? I know it's really different from Overcome: it's a different storytelling style, because I wanted an open-ended denouement.

A happy relationship without sex is possible, no matter what the patriarchy says.


End file.
